I was returning from a trip to Washington, D.C. where I had spent a week at a conference. I was ready to go home. Really ready. The shuttle dropped me off at the airport three hours before my boarding time. I had TSA-Precheck, so I breezed through security and found my gate in record time. Delay. Delay. Delay. With time on my hands, I stopped, got a diet Coke, and found an empty table. An empty table at Reagan National Airport is not easy to find, but there it was, just waiting for me.
I pulled a bunch of wadded up receipts out of my folder, my purse, my backpack, my pocket, etc. and started sorting them. I have to turn in everything for reimbursement - itemized receipts as well as the matching credit card receipt. They all have to be labeled and taped to plain paper to be turned in for reimbursement. It's a pain. So, I was sitting at my tiny table and getting myself organized, happy as I could be that there was nobody to disturb me and that I could get all that tedious work done. Then, I looked up and saw a woman holding a bag of food and looking around.
I knew she needed a place to sit and eat. I knew there was not an empty table. I wasn't planning on sharing mine. Please don't look over here. I do not want to be bothered! But something (Someone) told me to do it anyway. So, I did my very best imitation of Esther Burroughs. I watched the woman until our eyes met and I motioned for her to come and sit with me and share the table. Maybe she'll say no! She sat.
Her name is Hanna. I know her last name, but it is nearly unpronounceable for those who speak Southern. She was born and raised in Africa. She has a wonderful lilting accent that I could listen to for hours on end. She was in Washington to have a treatment at the National Institute of Health. She was diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer and has been going to Washington since 2008 to participate in a research trial. And now, her mother has been diagnosed with cancer (different type) and is in the midst of chemo, on her second of six treatments. We talked about chemo, cancer, inordinate amounts of pills, and life. I told her that I could not have gotten through that ordeal without God. Her eyes lit up. She understood exactly what I meant. Exactly.
As we talked, one of the things I told her was how God sent me Charley, our newest dog, (a story for another time!). She thought it was funny that God would send me a dog, but she didn't doubt it! She laughed about how Charley can clean a swimming pool by getting on a float and picking up the leaves one at a time. We talked about fun stuff and serious stuff and things we don't understand but hope God will explain one day.
I don't know how we got to the subject, but I ended up telling her about my friend Robin and how her sixteen-year-old son had been diagnosed with Leiber's Hereditary Optic Neuropathy in the spring and was legally blind in June. I told her about his amazing attitude and his determination to just keep going in the same positive direction for his life. She offered to pray for him. Then she offered to have her women's group pray for him. She wrote his name on a piece of paper so that she could share it with the ladies in her church. And I will be praying for her and her mother.
We talked until it was time for her to board her flight to Detroit to see her mother and then on to Indiana. She wrote her name for me along with her address and phone number. I need to keep up with this lady.
When I left the hotel, hours earlier, headed for the airport, I could not have imagined that I was going to meet a Catholic woman from South Bend, Indiana by way of Africa. And she wasn't expecting to meet a Southern Baptist from Alabama with Swedish roots. But, that sweet woman of faith made my day. We laughed a lot, cried a little, and when we hugged good-bye, I absolutely knew that God had orchestrated the whole thing. After missing a weekend of fun and fellowship with our Servant Team at a planning retreat, I was feeling a little sorry for myself and the fact that work had once again interfered with my grand plans - and my fun. But God, just like He always does, knew what I needed most and sent me a different kind of fun and a very brief "planning retreat" of my own - at a very small table in the midst of a very crowded airport in Washington, D.C.
But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. John 14:26
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